Rumors and Rebellion
by failedfracture
Summary: When a rumor is started about Hermione and Draco, the two find common ground. Draco rebels against his parents and uses Hermione to do it. Hogwarts 8th year.
1. Chapter 1

"Why _the fuck_ does EVERYONE think I am _shagging GRANGER_?" Draco's hand slammed down on the table, hard enough to make the water in Blaise's glass slush over the side and onto the mahogany table.

"In the potions classroom, no less. Oddly specific for something that _never happened,_" Blaise said with a quirked brow. He was used to Draco's temper, though admittedly he hadn't seen him lose it this way since before the war ended.

"It _didn't happen_. And whoever is responsible for spreading this lie," he raised his voice so the other Slytherins in the common room could hear clearly, "Will pay for it."

Draco swished his robes and took a seat, but not before glaring angrily at the third-year students on the couch, the fifth year's next to the stair landing. _Someone_ saw them together there in the dungeons, which meant it was likely a Slytherin, and that someone was going to wish they were never born.

"It's not me you have to convince, Draco. It's the rest of the student body. This rumor has had more than twenty-four hours to circulate. There isn't a witch or wizard within Hogwarts that hasn't heard it by now."

"My question is, why the fuck does everyone believe it?" He snarled. "We _hate_ each other."

"No you don't." Blaise leaned forward, reminding Draco of the truth few understood. The war had changed Draco. He carried the scars of it. Any hatred he had once felt for Hermione Granger and her fellow Gryffindors had collapsed inward though he'd never say it aloud. They had done what he could never—they had saved the fucking world, and gratitude raised like bile in the back of his throat. The last two years had been the worst years of his entire life, and if things were even remotely normal now, it was because of their sacrifice.

_Fuck_.

He shook his head. "We have hated each other for years."

Blaise continued, "Well from my angle, sure looks like you've been skirt-chasing. We've all seen you and Granger in the halls together."

"Prefect duties."

"In the library together."

"History of Magic assignment."

"And now in the potions classroom at one AM on a Saturday?"

"I told you, Zabini-"

"Yeah, yeah. As I said, I'm not the one that requires convincing." Blaise looked pensively at the other students in the room. "Granger got the raw end of this, you know. Her reputation is taking a _serious beating_."

"She's a fucking war hero. I think her reputation can take a few hits and come out intact."

Blaise chuckled quietly in disagreement. "People love a fall from grace. Krum, Potter, Weasley, McLaggen... and now _Draco Malfoy: _Known death eater. Hero or not, she certainly is rumored to get around."

"The rumors are bullshit, everyone knows that. I mean, McLaggen?" He rolled his ring with his thumb, suppressing a shudder. "No one believes that tosser."

"Funny how a rumor about fucking you in the potions classroom lends a certain credence to his whole _broom closet_ story."

Draco tapped his foot, mulling over her predicament. Admittedly, he had been thinking of himself only until then. "You think that's what this is about? Ruining _her_ reputation?"

"It's working swimmingly from what I've heard. She's in the infirmary, courtesy Ginny Weasley."

Draco scratched the back of his head.

"Well, _fuck_."

* * *

The day before

Gryffindor Girls Dormitory

Hermione jolted out of bed to the sound of an aggressive knock.

Ginny Weasley's voice carried through the door, and very likely all the way to the great hall, from where she came. "Hermione!"

Toppling to the floor with a graceless thud, she shuffled to the door and opened it.

"_Keep it down._"

"You missed breakfast."

"Yeah, I had a late night," Hermione said, walking back to her bed. Parvati, her only other roommate this year, had tried and failed to rouse her.

"Draco Malfoy didn't have anything to do with it, did he?"

Hermione frowned, remembering back to the Slytherins unfortunate state the night before. He was horribly drunk and lucky she had been feeling generous when she and Dawn Darling, Hufflepuff prefect had taken pity on him. "Well... sure he contributed. Wait, Dawn told you?"

Busy pondering what had made her save Draco's arse when he so clearly deserved some sort of consequences, Hermione missed the look of horror on Ginny's face.

"Dawn?" Ginny whispered, "The entire school is talking-"

"Oh, she's such a gossip!" Hermione groaned as she threw the covers back over her bare legs. "Does McGonnagall know?"

Ginny scowled, face now red with fury. "Who cares?"

Hermione looked up at her friend quizzically. "Well I don't want him to lose his prefect badge, or his spot on the quid-"

Hermione was cut off by a mean hex that left her clutching her stomach, curling over and hurling up a seaweed-like substance.

"You're a real piece of work."

Ginny slammed the door and left her there.

* * *

Sunday Afternoon

Draco sat on his bed rereading the letter from his mother again. Were they seriously prepared to disown him over a stupid fucking rumor?

What he felt in that moment wasn't fear. He had known fear, known terror. This was nothing less than absolute fury.

He and his parents were barely on speaking terms after he had outright refused to marry Astoria. He _didn't want to be married_, and if or when he chose to do so, he didn't want it to be an _obligation_ for fuck's sake. They'd been at a stalemate since the Christmas holiday.

It wasn't just the marriage contract, or this rumor about him associating with a muggleborn, it wasn't even the events of the war. It was the fact that they would ever consider disowning their son. That they would use it as leverage to get him to obey. Well _fuck that_.

* * *

Hogwarts Infirmary

With great hesitation, Blaise stepped into the infirmary and looked around for Hermione Granger's telltale head of frizzy locks. It was the sound of vomit that finally led him to her bed.

"Geez, she did a number on you."

Hermione wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and glared up at the dark-haired Slytherin who had only spoken directly to her twice, once to tell her she had billywig slime in her hair, and the other to say 'bless you' when she sneezed. "You can tell Malfoy I'm going to _Avada_ him when I'm out of here-"

"Draco didn't have any part in this. He said you brewed him a sober up potion and that was all." For a second he looked like he was going to be sick from the sight of the puke bucket, but he pulled it together and smiled mischievously. "Unless you had your way with him before you gave him the potion."

"Sod off," Hermione said, curling over and clutching her stomach. "God, why does anyone believe this rubbish!"

"He asked me the same question. As I told him...it's not that far fetched."

"What?"

"Must I point out the obvious?"

"Apparently."

"It's called sexual tension." He said with a lewd expression. "Apparently everyone sees it except the two of you."

She glared at him and pointed at the door. "Out, Zabini."

"Wait, wait," he held up his hands. "Sneaking around the dungeons in the middle of the night is suspicious behavior. Someone must have seen you two coming out of the classroom and jumped to the wrong conclusion." He ventured closer to the witch. "My question is, why did the Weasley girl believe it? Aren't you supposed to be friends?"

"There was a misunderstanding." She flopped back on the pillow, looking teary-eyed, though it was likely unclear to her visitor if it was caused by emotions or the incessant urge to vomit. "She asked me a vague question about whether I'd been up late because of Malfoy, but I didn't know she meant it _that way_! I figured Dawn told her we had found him drunk."

"Dawn?"

Hermione nodded, wiping at her eyes and sniffing. "We were on prefect rounds together. I may have asked her not to turn him in...Oh I should have sent his arse to McGonagall and none of this would have happened!"

Blaise took a seat at the end of the bed, wondering how far exactly projectile vomit might travel. "So why didn't you?"

"I thought... you know, it would be a gesture of goodwill. He hasn't called me any names at all this year." A steady stream of tears poured from her eyes. "With his probation, he could lose his prefect status, his spot on the quidditch team...perhaps be expelled. All because he drank too much fire whiskey?!" She took an exasperated breath. "He's an idiot for risking it. I should have let him rot.'

"Well he doesn't deserve your kindness," Blaise replied. "And fuck if you aren't both paying dearly for it."

"Oh yeah, I'm sure _poor Malfoy_ is paying for it," she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "To be associated with a muggleborn this way must be _devastating_."

"He got a letter from his parents this morning."

Hermione stilled, eyes widening. "What?!"

"They're simply beside themselves." He raised a hand to his forehead, mockingly.

She rolled her eyes. "Be serious Zabini. Who do you think told them?"

"Promise not to repeat it?"

Hermione nodded.

"He said it was the Greengrass girls. Draco is supposed to marry Astoria."

"What?" She shook her head, certain she misheard him. "I didn't know they were together."

"They're not. Their parents are in..._negotiations_."

She scoffed. "That's archaic. You purebloods are really _something_."

"I'm not a pureblood," Blaise whispered and put a quieting finger to his lips. "Don't lump me in with that crazy lot."

Hermione blinked. "What?"

"You say _what_ a lot, you know that? Try to keep up."

"Well I've been puking and crying for the last day and a half. Forgive me if I'm not my wittiest." She sat forward and wrapped her arms around her knees.

"Since we're trading secrets..."

She narrowed her eyes. "Go on, ask."

"McLaggen?"

She snorted. "He's a filthy liar."

"Krum? Potter?" He said with a brow quirked.

She shook her head in the negative.

"Weasley?"

She pursed her lips. Her lack of response was sufficient to answer the question.

"Damn. You've got an unearned reputation." He stood up. "I'm sorry. I'll do what I can but-" he scratched his forehead and frowned, "You two are fucked. And not in the fun way."

* * *

Monday morning

Advanced Charms

Monday came round and classes resumed as normal, but nothing _felt_ normal. Not the way people looked at him, not the way Hermione took a seat further from him, and especially not the way that his stomach did a flippity-flop when she walked past him. This sudden awareness of her was surely induced by the rumor itself, which had weighed so heavily on Draco's mind that he'd spent a restless night pondering what it might be like to get to know Hermione Granger in the _carnal_ sense.

Would she be bossy or timid? Would she know her way around a man's body, or would she only know what she had read in books? What would her unruly curls feel like in his hands, her lips pressed against his?

The thought of their hips colliding produced a twitch somewhere he didn't want to twitch in class. This rumor had done real damage to his psyche.

"Mister Malfoy, can you demonstrate?" His name being called by Professor Flitwick brought him back to his senses, and he was suddenly aware that his eyes had been glued to the back of Hermione's school robes. He hadn't been paying attention, and much of the class sniggered at his obliviousness.

Professor Flitwick repeated his instruction, and though Draco was listening closely this time, he was also keenly aware of her eyes on him for the first time since their supposed rendezvous.

He hung back after class ended, giving Hermione a head start and plenty of time to leave the corridor, to avoid an unnecessary encounter. Pansy lingered at the front of the classroom waiting for him, looking every bit as disgusted as he currently felt.

"You staring at her and then avoiding her isn't going to help your situation," she sneered.

"I don't know what you're on about." He stood up and threw his bag over his shoulder.

"Yeah, sure."

They walked out together, but after two steps they halted dead in their tracks.

Hermione had her wand out and pointed at Colton, a sixth year Slytherin who even his own house despised. He was like a younger Vincent Crabbe, but less gullible.

Draco was no one's hero, but he felt a surge of anger toward Colton that he couldn't ignore. The guy was nearly twice her size. But she was a fierce witch, and actually quite scary when she was angry, he recalled as he watched her twist the curved black wand that had once belonged to his Aunt Bellatrix and point it at his throat. It had been a while since Draco had been on the wrong end of her violent temper and he was thankful for it.

Colton walked away with a sneer, and Hermione walked the opposite direction, breaking into a trot after a few steps.

Draco could barely believe it, but a small part of him wished that Potter and Weasley had returned to Hogwarts and that they were here now to flank the head girl and defend her honor.

Draco Malfoy was not up to the challenge.

* * *

In the twenty-four hours since Hermione had left the infirmary, she had been tormented by whispers, catcalls, accusations, and now this awful run-in with a Slytherin boy who was even more despicable than Draco Malfoy had once been. At least Malfoy had the decency not to proposition her and call her a mudblood in the same sentence. She had been lied about, hexed, and worst of all... her relationship with Ron had moved from _on hold_ to _non-existent_.

Ron received a floo call from Ginny on Saturday, because the witch had really truly believed that Hermione had sex with Draco sodding Malfoy, and thought it necessary to inform her brother. In Ron's anger, he had gotten drunk and fooled around with a young woman from his auror training program.

Hermione stood over the sink in the girl's lavatory, and for the first time she could recall she didn't care one bit about being late to her next class.

She was devastated.

"Granger."

Hermione whipped around to find Pansy approaching.

"If you want to cry, save it for your pillow," Pansy said, looking composed and generally opposite of Hermione in just about every way. She was about to put Pansy in her place when she realized that the girl was missing her usual haughty look. "When you're vulnerable," she continued, "they treat you worse. That goes double for Slytherins."

Hermione nodded silently.

"Keep your head high and they'll stop talking. _Eventually_. And...watch out for Zabini. He's a smooth-talking skirt chaser. He likes to pounce when you're weakest." Pansy stepped in close. "Draco is a gentleman in comparison."

Hermione stiffened at his name. "I didn't do what they're saying."

"Let's say for a moment that you did. Would you deserve this?" She reached out and touched Hermione's tear-stained cheek. It felt like an invasion of her personal space, but as her words sank in she softened her stance.

"No."

After seven years of hostility, the girls shared a silent moment of understanding.

Hermione wiped her face and lifted her chin.

"Good girl."

* * *

Colton's vile words came back to Hermione as she took a seat in the great hall. _Slut_.

This would be her first meal since Friday at dinner, and she rather thought she would be famished. Instead, everything smelled wrong, and the vacant feeling in her abdomen was strangely... welcome. She scooped vegetables onto her plate and picked at them.

Parvati eyed her plate and handed her a biscuit, which she took but didn't eat.

She'd never been called that word before, at least not to her face. Its potency had been lost on her until that day. _Slut_. It tasted like semen and smelled like sweat. She didn't like it.

Thinking back to the summer the war began, she had done something she tried hard not to regret. She told herself that it was okay that she went home with a boy she barely knew. _It didn't mean anything about her._ Yet it weighed on her conscience and left her with an icky feeling that resurfaced and multiplied with the recent events. Why, she wondered, had she been so eager to lose her virginity? He had been good looking and nice enough (in the beginning), but she didn't know him well enough to _really_ like him...And yet she had been so eager to learn him. Too eager perhaps, she thought in retrospect.

Back then, death had felt like it was looming around every corner. She thought it was an experience she would want.

She was wrong.

Pansy's words came to mind and she let them settle over her. Even if she felt icky about her first sexual encounter and not much better about her summer fling with Ron, it didn't make her a slut. And further, even if she had been with all those men Zabini listed off the day before in the infirmary, she _still wouldn't be a slut._ No one had a right to shame her for what she did with her body.

Yet, even though her logical mind told her she should not feel ashamed, the feeling was still rooted in the very pit of her stomach. She didn't understand it.

Looking across the hall at the Slytherin table, her eyes landed on Pansy. Blaise. Draco.

The last two days had turned her world upside down. Her friends had been awful and her enemies...had not.

She looked down the table at Ginny, who frowned apologetically. They had straightened out the misunderstanding after Hermione was released from the infirmary but unfortunately, the damage was done. While the youngest Weasley was remorseful, Hermione didn't know if their friendship would ever be quite the same. She didn't know if any of her friendships would. Because she had walked out of her dorm throwing up and in need of help, and they all stood by watching, gossiping. They let her make the trek to the infirmary _alone_ and _confused_.

They were all being nice and somewhat apologetic today, but she'd never forget how quickly they had turned on her.

_I don't care what people think. It doesn't matter what they think. They don't know the truth. I don't care what they think. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter._

—

"_Twenty points from-"_

_Hermione covered Dawn's mouth before she could finish the sentence. Draco slumped before them, reeking of firewhiskey._

"_Come on Dawn, he's had a rough go of it." She wasn't sure why she was making an exception for him of all students, but he had been different upon returning this year and they had a tentative truce that she didn't want to collapse around her. She let go of the witch's mouth and murmured an apology. "Rounds are over in ten. If you can wrap them up, I'll escort Malfoy back to the dungeons."_

"_We ought to turn him into McGonagall."_

"_He's on probation. She could ban him from Quidditch and take his prefect badge. Let's give him a chance."_

"_Alright," she uncrossed her arms. "Fine."_

_Hermione wrapped one of Draco's long arms around her shoulder, thankful he was capable of carrying most of his own weight and led him down to the dungeons. If he knew who she was or where they were going, he didn't show it. He just wobbled and frowned and allowed himself to be guided. The castle was still, the sound of their footfall and occasional murmur from her drunken companion were all that could be heard._

_Her hands rested at the bottom of his rib cage as she maneuvered him around a corner, and step by step, she became more aware of him. She had always thought him to be skinny, but the muscular shoulder around hers, and the flex of muscle beneath her fingertips reminded her that beneath these school robes was a man, flesh and blood and sinew. She repositioned her hand on his side. His arm, which hung limply over her shoulder for most of the walk, suddenly tightened around her like he had only just realized that there was a person beside him. A woman. A hand trailed up her arm and left a blaze in its wake. The moment of lucidity was over after only a minute, but it would linger in her mind for a long while, torturing her. She stopped outside the entrance to the Slytherin dormitory and nudged Draco to say the password, but he couldn't put together two syllables._

"_Malfoy, you've got to say the password and get inside before you get in trouble. Hurry!"_

"_I can't...I don't...what?"_

_After a minute of trying to urge the password from him, she decided the best approach would be to sober him up. With some effort, she navigated him around the corner to the potions classroom and dropped him into the closest chair._

"_Why are you...? Just leave me..." he mumbled toward her._

"_I'm going to brew a quick sober up potion. I've done this a few times, it should only take a minute. You stay there while I fetch the ingredients."_

_A clonking sound could be heard as his head collided with the desk and she smiled. No, he wasn't going anywhere._

_Brewing potions in a dimly lit classroom at such a late hour wasn't common for Hermione, at least not anymore, and she found that she missed the excitement of doing something she wasn't supposed to, with the added benefit of feeling happy that she was doing a good deed. Even if it was for someone less than deserving._

_When the potion was finished, she brought it over to Malfoy_ _who was still slumped over the desk._

"_Malfoy!" She nudged his shoulder, earning a groan from him._

_She pushed his shoulders so he was sitting upright, and his eyes fluttered open, unfocused. His hair was disheveled, clothes rumpled, both details which would lend themselves to the ensuing rumors._

_He was much more likable this way. Quiet, disoriented, tousled. She smiled as she lifted the cup to his lips and helped him drink it down._

_Not even a minute passed before the effects of the potion kicked in._

"_Where the fuck... Granger?" His gray eyes opened wide._

_Leaning against the desk looking rather scholarly, she replied, "You were drunk. I brewed you a sober up potion so you could get into your dormitory."_

"_Oh." He stood up and stretched as though waking from a long slumber. He stepped toward her and scratched the back of his head in an unusual moment of vulnerability. "Thanks."_

"_You're welcome."_

_He left the classroom and she followed, turning the opposite direction in the corridor._

* * *

Draco rolled over in his dark, shared room, eyes firmly shut and wishing he could get back to sleep for just one more hour before the sun rose. It was too sodding early to be up, but being jolted awake by a nightmare usually ended any chance of sleep, and he knew that day would be no different. Death had been just a few short paces behind him for far too long, and even though he knew in his rational mind that he was safe, some primitive part of his brain had locked itself into high alert.

The things he had witnessed their left scars, every death took a slice of his sanity, every unforgivable he uttered had left a stain on his soul. He could still feel the dark magic thrumming in his veins, hear the cries for mercy, feel the pull of his conscience as he stood by and did nothing. A fresh wave of nausea overcame him but he swallowed the bile and clenched his jaw tight.

He _did_ blame his parents, and his anger simmered just below the surface waiting to boil over. While he knew he was responsible for his own actions, they had literally spoon-fed him bullshit his _entire life_ and then when the Dark Lord arose, they had invited misery into their front door. What the fuck kind of parents raised a child in that environment?

And after all they had done, somehow they still thought they could _control_ him, like they were the supreme experts on how he ought to live his life.

Fuck them and their wishes, their demands, their manipulation tactics.

His eyes snapped open with resolve.

Fuck them.

* * *

Hermione sat in the library determined to concentrate on her studies, but for a strange moment the ground felt like it was moving beneath her feet, castle rumbling with dark spells that threatened to collapse the very walls around her just as it had during the final battle. It was a figment of her imagination, yet it felt so real that a second of sheer panic overtook her, leaving her blood pumping fast and mind spinning.

So many people had died that day. Her heart felt heavy and her throat constricted at the thought of it.

The school bag that dropped into the seat across from her pulled her back to the present moment.

Draco looked neither angry nor distraught, and his nonchalance was _irking_ considering the hell she had been through the last few days, months, years. If she were being honest, she did notice the telltale dark circles under his eyes that had been there for a long time, but he seemed so visibly composed, so _unaffected_ by everything, and now this rumor that had turned her life upside down and he seemed—just fine. The heat in her cheeks was at least as much from anger as it was humiliation.

"Granger," he said as he sat across from her.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Malfoy. I wasn't sure you'd make it."

"Wishful thinking on your part." His jaw worked from side to side. "I'm sure I'm the last person you want to see."

"Not the last person," she said with honesty. "Oddly, there are at least a dozen people on this campus I'd like to hex right now, and you're pretty far down on that list, all considered."

"You know I didn't have anything to do with this." He pulled out his schoolwork and placed it on the table, then readied his quill. She found herself relaxing slowly, arms unfolding. Blaming him for this fiasco would be easy, but it wouldn't resolve anything.

His life was complicated in a way she could barely comprehend.

"How are you?" She asked, wanting sincerely to know. Part of her hoped he was suffering as much as she was.

He glanced up at her with an expression that said 'must we continue talking about this?'.

"I heard your parents were upset."

He blanched for a split second, then set down his quill. "My parents can rot. I'm tired of following orders, being reprimanded like a first-year for shit that didn't happen."

She was surprised by the raw emotion in his words, and that he would say them aloud to her of all people. It might have been the most honest thing he had ever said to her. "What will they do?"

"Why do you care?" He sneered, but it wasn't as hateful as she was used to. He looked pained.

She shifted uncomfortably as he locked eyes with hers. There was an intensity to his demeanor that she was unfamiliar with. "I don't know. I just do."

He scratched the back of his head. "If I'm seen with you again... they've threatened to disown me. Disinherit me."

Stomach in a tense knot, she replied, "Yet here you are."

"Here I am." He put his palms upward. "I'm an adult, and I've enough money in my personal Gringotts vault to last me a lifetime. If they're willing to disown me over a stupid fucking rumor..." he picked up his quill, "let them."

"You're serious."

"I'm serious." He repeated without looking up. "To be disowned is preferred to being _owned_."

"You told them that?"

He swallowed, eyes fixed on his textbook. "Word for word."

They studied in silence for the next few minutes. Draco's words hung in the air, playing themselves over and over in Hermione's mind.

To be disowned was a heavy concept. Hermione cast her parents out of her life to protect them. In their parent/child relationship, as with most muggleborns, she wielded a great deal of control in how she lived her life. To be controlled or threatened by one's parents was almost a foreign concept to her. It sounded... stifling. If the situation were reversed, she would rebel against it with everything she had.

History of Magic was easy compared to real-life problems.

Finally admitting the reason for their lack of productivity, Draco asked, "How are you?"

"Me? I'm fine. Just...fine."

Silence loomed.

"Suppose you've heard I'm now the school slut." She fiddled with her quill, looking up at him.

A flicker of shock and then regret crossed his features. "Anyone who knows you would know better."

"One would think." She regretted the words as soon as they slipped through her lips. He didn't need to know the level of betrayal she felt. It would only make her look weak.

"It's ridiculous you know. Even if I had a one night romp, or _twenty different men_, it wouldn't give anyone the right to shame me that way. Fucking double standards." She mumbled the last bit under her breath. Hermione cursing was a rarity, but damn it, she was _angry_. She wanted to scream it from the astronomy tower so every person in school could hear it.

From the look on his face, he had caught her words and was startled by them. "_What,_" she spat, expecting him to make a snide remark.

"You sounds like Pansy." He looked back at his textbook, and after an awkward silence, he looked back at her. "You're both right of course. About the double standards. I can think of twenty words for a woman who gets around, and men... get _respect_."

They continued their project, speaking very little to one another beyond the necessity of exchanging comments on their shared assignment.

As the remainder of the hour dwindled, a group of sixth year Ravenclaws walked past, tutting under their breaths at the rumored lovers.

Draco flipped them off, and she hid a smile.

—


	2. Chapter 2

Two days passed, and Hermione thought that perhaps the worst of the hateful gossip was behind her. The looks in the hallways had diminished. A few Gryffindors she had thought of as friends were keeping a distance, which left her thinking they had never really been her friends at all. Anyone who really knew her would know she'd never sneak off to the dungeons to shag Draco Malfoy, and a good friend would be there to support her even if she _had_ done it.

After her Potions class, Hermione walked up to a few classmates hoping to have a civilized conversation and perhaps offer a hand to Dean, who seemed to be struggling in Slughorn's advanced classes.

She felt them shirk her, not overtly, but their body language told her a story that they'd never dare say aloud. Were they embarrassed to be seen with her?

The others left her alone with Dean to discuss the latest potions assignment, and he seemed happy that she had offered to help, because _as he put it_, "this class is very hard. I would love to meet sometime, maybe in the potions classroom, for a demonstration or... tutoring."

She had been about to say yes for an oblivious moment, and then it hit her like a bludger. Blushing scarlet, she stepped backward into foot traffic.

"Watch out," a student barked at her as she bumped into them.

"Sorry."

"Bump into me if you'd like," another student remarked, but she didn't see their face.

"Listen," Dean started, "It was just a joke. I didn't meant to...you know-"

A hand gripped hers and she felt a lurch in her stomach until she saw who it belonged to. "Come on," Malfoy said, his voice cutting through the chaos. He looked at Dean with a dare in his eye.

He tugged and she followed him for a few steps, more out of shock than compliance, but her rational mind kicked in and she halted.

_What the hell is he doing? _

She wanted to say it out loud but when she opened her mouth the words would not come out. He looked at her and the words seemed unnecessary; she saw the answer in the quirk of his brow, his strangely questioning smile. Whether or not he had rescued her from a wretched situation, his intention was to _use_ her.

To drive the nail through his own coffin.

The tightening of his hand around hers told her he was full on _rebelling_ against his parents, and she knew right away that she was going to _let_ him use her, because Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy _deserved_ to be rebelled against, and he should have done it years ago.

Following was not her strong suit. She preferred to lead, to plan, to think logically, but in that instant, with all the betrayal fresh in her mind, the new kinship she felt toward him, she took a step and _followed_. This was his game after all, and she found she had very little left to lose.

"Malfoy, I-"

"Shut up?"

And because the way he said it was more of a plea than an order, she did.

* * *

Initially, no one took any notice, but as soon as one person saw them and whispered, the chorus of gossip began.

Draco was intimidating to most - a convicted death eater who had used unforgivables and orchestrated the murder of Dumbledore. She didn't personally find him scary at all, but _they_ did; the masses of students who had heard but not seen, knew stories with no context. Theirs was more of a sharp and jabbing silence, a 'how dare they' silence, and she felt strangely comforted that she wasn't alone under their scrutiny. It was far better than that awful Monday, feeling isolated and gawked at as she had walked alone through the hall.

With each step she felt increasingly confident she had made the right decision. She didn't need to be seen with a man to feel validated, but she was tired of denying those inane rumors. This felt very much like screaming, "So what if I did?!"

Despite his reputation as a death eater and a _total prick_, Malfoy was a bit of a catch. Hot, rich, confident, and as he proved that very day, full on rebel.

When they reached her Arithmancy class, he stopped short of the door. "Meet me here after class," he said. It wasn't a question.

When she nodded, he dropped her hand and walked away.

* * *

He looked down at her with a raised brow, and a challenge sparked between them. Entering the great hall together was a stupid idea and they both knew it. He stood to lose a lot more than she did, but clearly he didn't want an inheritance and an arranged marriage. He wanted his parents to know he openly defied them.

He wanted freedom.

"Don't chicken out now, Malfoy."

He laughed under his breath with no real humor and slipped his hand into hers. It made her feel alive.

They walked in.

The stares and whispers were just as she predicted, and growing by the second. She kept her head held high, fighting against the urge to curl in on herself. He was nervous enough for both of them, she could feel it.

Disowned was a formidable word.

He stopped her just before the tables, and leaned into her, so close she could feel his breath. "I have prefect rounds after dinner."

"I know. I made the schedule," she said.

He narrowed his eyes. "So I can blame you for sticking me with Longbottom?"

She smiled, unapologetically.

"Switch the schedule. Do rounds with me." He didn't phrase it as a request.

"I have homework," she replied, unaffected by his demand. "I'm going to the library after dinner."

"Friday then."

She licked her teeth, wondering exactly how much Malfoy she could tolerate. "Alright."

A cocky grin told her he was pleased with her acquiescence, even if it required negotiation. She rolled her eyes, hoping he wouldn't expect it to be the norm.

He squeezed and let go of her hand, then began his dreaded walk to the Slytherin table.

"So you're with Malfoy now?" Ginny asked as Hermione approached the Gryffindors. She stopped in front of the girl she had long called her friend.

"Does it matter either way? People are going to lie and gossip and spin the truth no matter what I have to say about it." She looked around at her other housemates, eyes lingering on those who had hurled insults over the last few days. She continued walking a few more steps and took a seat alone toward the end of the table, then glared at the lot of them. "I don't owe anyone an explanation."

She was absolutely floored when several of the girls at her table shuffled down to her end. Ginny and the cast majority of others remained at the other side, glaring at the lot of them. She hadn't meant to create division within her own house but as she looked around and met their eyes, she knew that was exactly what she had just done.

Her face flushed as she met eyes with the headmistress.

* * *

Adrenaline coursed through Draco's veins as he took a seat next to Zabini and Nott. He'd never publicly defied his parents or so flagrantly shirked his pureblood traditions. People who didn't know him well might say it was a reckless move, but his actions were nothing less than strategic, a bold counter-strike to his parents threat. He was an adult, and at his young age he had witnessed and done things some men were spared from for a lifetime. He was living his life on his own terms now, systematically destroying the control his parents held over him, upending his reputation as a death eater and muggleborn hater, and getting himself out of this rediculous contract marriage his family was trying to arrange.

"Damn," Blaise said.

Pansy leaned over the table. "You sure you want to do this?"

"It's already done," Draco replied.

"Is this real or are you two plotting?"

"Granger, plotting?"

"She'd never actually date Draco."

"Draco would never actually date _her_."

"He's had the hots for her since fourth year."

"_Bullshit_."

"All this speculation is fascinating," Draco said, cutting off their conversation, "But mind your own fucking business would you?"

* * *

Friday rounds were awkward. He walked silently beside her most of the evening, small talk limited to their class assignment, Professor Slughorn's eating habits, and the fifth year class who was especially rowdy that evening.

"Ten points from Hufflepuff," Hermione said as they encountered two fourth year students snogging in an alcove.

"Like you two have room to talk," the male student replied. Hermione's face turned scarlet.

Draco snarled, "_That's ten more points Flynn_ and I'll tack on detention if you say another word."

The two students groaned and walked away.

They continued walking silently for a moment, but it was so irksome to have people to have someone believe something about her that simply _wasn't true!_ Her palms itched with the desire to hit something. "I can't believe people actually believe this rumor!"

He smirked, unphased. "I'm a handsome bloke, Granger. The ladies can't keep their hands off me."

She felt the heat rising in her cheeks. Even if he was handsome, he was also an arrogant little prick. "You're so full of yourself. Even if that were the case, and I assure you _it is not_, I'm not your _type_."

He stopped briefly and watched her pass. She felt his eyes on her for a minute before he moved to catch up. "I don't know... you're pretty easy on the eyes."

Hermione stopped, mouth agape at the first compliment he had ever given her. It had to be some sort of joke.

"It's a shame about that hair though," he continued on predictably. She felt the needling of self-consciousness, resisting the urge to lift a hand to her hair and smooth it out.

"Ever heard of a brush? That's a real rats nest."

Walking away quickly, she replied, "Can't come up with anything original, can you."

He caught up to her, walking backward down the empty corridor. "Did you just call me, Draco Malfoy, _unoriginal?_" He smirked unkindly. "Perhaps it's time for a new nickname."

"_Don't_."

"Hmmm... no...no..." He seemed to rattle off potential nicknames for her within his slimy little brain, and finally laughed aloud. "_Medusa_. Ah...she could have been beautiful, but instead she was cursed with the most disgusting, vile head of snakes. So _fitting_. Don't you think?"

"Shut it."

He seemed supremely amused with himself while she seethed.

"Turns men to stone with just one glance."

"Malfoy _I mean it._"

He shielded his face from her. "Don't look at me you monster! I'm too young and attractive to die!"

"You're a real git, you know." She went to punch his arm, but he dodged her.

"We're together two days and you're already trying to _abuse_ me," he said with a scoff. A strange feeling overtook Hermione when he said the words, but she didn't have time to think much on it because as they rounded the corner, Draco slowed to a stop. Two Slytherin girls stood ahead of them, one of them, a beautiful brunette with long tresses. Astoria Greengrass.

Hermione's stomach twisted into a knot.

"Aren't you out past your bedtime?" Draco snarled at them.

Astoria looked between the two Prefects, looking distraught at the sight of them together. It made Hermione wonder exactly where the two of them stood. "Out showing off your new mudblood slut?"

Such hateful words from such an innocent looking girl. It made Hermione's spine tingle.

"Ten points from Slytherin," Draco said, giving the girl a disapproving once over, "for being a jealous bitch."

He swished his robe and walked past the two younger girls, but Hermione didn't miss the hurt look in Astoria's eyes.

Summoning up her courage, Hermione followed him to the end of the passage and turned to him. "What was that about?"

He looked back at her and his eyes held a secret rage. "I don't want to talk about it."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but given the look on his face she thought better of it.

The next ten minutes passed in uncomfortable silence, until she finally had her limit and decided to break her promise to Blaise. "Are you really supposed to marry her?"

Draco scratched the back of his head, grimacing. "Can't trust _anyone_ at this blasted school."

"You can trust me," Hermione replied.

"Really? Do _you_ trust _me_, Granger?"

She frowned. Of course she didn't after everything he had done. "It's not the same. I'm a trustworthy person. You're _not_."

"It's a two way road," he said, walking forward without looking at her.

"Fine, I-I trust you with _some_ _things_."

"Oh do you?" He questioned. "Then tell me...What happened with you and Weasley?"

"Which Weasley? There are several, you know."

He snorted. "The one you've been _pining after_ for the last few years."

"I wasn't pining," she replied tersely. After a few more paces, she relented. It wasn't a secret really, and if it would get him to talk to her it was worth the small sacrifice. "He heard the rumor. And then he drank too much and fooled around with another woman."

He stopped, surprised that she had told him the truth. "That's fucked up." He searched her face for some sort of reaction, which she refused to give to him. "I hope you dumped him immediately."

She stood tall and replied, "Yes."

His expression melted slowly into a satisfied smile. "Then something good come out of this mess. I only wish I could have seen his face."

"Stop making light of other people's misery! Reason number one that I can't trust you." As a bench came into view, she walked to it and sat down. "Tell me about Astoria."

He took the seat beside her, and stared directly ahead. "I told her she was too young for me. I was trying to be kind," he swallowed. "I shouldn't have been. Spoilt brats like her don't understand kindness. Somehow she thought all I needed was a bit of a nudge, so she used her family connections to arrange a proper marriage."

The bench felt cold and hard beneath her palms, much like Malfoy's expression. "She's a pretty girl," she replied.

"She's jealous, manipulative, immature. And she's as dim as a a rock. I can't spend the rest of my life with someone like that. And I told her so... last Friday," his voice trailed off toward the end like he really didn't want to be speaking at all.

The pieces clicked into place. "Is that why you got drunk?"

"I got drunk because _I like firewhiskey_," he replied with a smirk. "And yes I guess I was a little stressed out about getting roped into a marriage I didn't want."

If the situation were reversed, she might have been tempted to drink as well.

"You're not going to marry her then?"

"Hell no. Especially not after what she's done." He looked at her with an almost remorseful expression. "I'm fairly certain she's the one who saw us last week. Or one of her friends. She was angry that I was with you, so she ran directly to my parents, knowing exactly what they would do."

The knot in Hermione's stomach returned. That rotten little girl had turned her life upside down.

"What's done is done," she replied with a pained look.

"I'm done being threatened and manipulated."

"So this is... rebellion?" _This,_ meaning whatever strange thing that caused him to want to be seen with her. She thought she knew the answer, but she really wanted him to say it aloud and give a name to what they were doing.

"I don't know," he replied, but she was fairly sure he did know, and that every move he made was strategic. If he pushed his limits sufficiently, his parents would either disown him or admit that they would never. His lips tugged upward into a grin. "Can't you just enjoy having a handsome man on your arm?"

Hermione scoffed and stood up. "Your ego is _massive_."

Draco smiled wickedly. "Do you know what else is massive?"

"Ugh! You're the _worst_." She threw her arms in the air.

"I was going to say _your hair_, Granger, but clearly you had your mind in the gutter."

"You're the most arrogant, insufferable man I've ever met in my life."

"You like it."

"I _do not_."

But as they fell into step beside one another alternating between silence and bickering, she started to think perhaps she did.

* * *

When Draco woke up the following Tuesday, he felt like his control was waning. He had expected a letter from his parents that still hadn't come.

Worse yet, this sudden and idiotic _infatuation_ with Hermione Granger was getting worse daily.

At first he sort of liked the way she held herself beside him, as though she was proud to be seen on his arm when he knew it couldn't be further from the truth. And then the way she defended him, which, whether it was for show or not, gave him a warm feeling in his chest. She actually hexed a fellow Gryffindor for calling him a death eater, and it was that precise moment that the ounce of lust and modicum of respect he had for her somehow multiplied into _utter reverence_.

She was incredible and attractive in a brand new way. The sway of her hips, the shape of her thighs where they disappeared under her school uniform, the curve of her exposed neck when she swept up her horrendous hair...everything about her was intoxicating.

The way her hand fit into his left him speechless sometimes.

* * *

They were midway between classes on Tuesday afternoon, and were walking side by side through the hall when his hand grazed hers in a different, less demanding way. First his knuckles brushed against hers, then his fingertips danced over her palm. She glanced up to find him wearing a grin, not the cocky kind he used to wear when he (rarely) one-upped her in a class, but the kind that left girls in puddles, weak-kneed and eager to please. And for the first time, it worked its magic on her.

Of course there were always people around, so it was surely all for show, but he drove her to distraction with his small innocent touches. A hand on the small of her back, a kiss on the temple, a whispered time or place.

When she wore her hair up in a messy bun on top of her head at the library, he had looked up from his assignment for a minute, eyes lingering on her neckline. His eyes darted away without meeting hers. It confused her more than perhaps anything else he had done, because there was no one there to see it.

In a moment of consideration the next morning, she pinned her hair up in the same fashion but with more attention to detail. The look he gave her before class was seared into her mind for the rest of the week.

She was learning him like a favorite school subject. His mannerisms, his false arrogance. The jabs and slights were starting to feel like the most contrived of their interactions.

Beneath the surface, Draco Malfoy was painfully human.

She watched him as the owl post arrived in the great hall each day. He received a few parcels but nothing that provoked a reaction. When he received a reply from his parents, she wondered if he would share it. Surely that would be the end of their charade, one way or another.

An emotion she didn't care to identify creeped up on her and she shoved it to the back of her mind.

* * *

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Blaise's voice cut through Draco's thoughts.

Draco snapped his head toward him, vaguely aware he'd been staring at the Gryffindor table again. "What are you on about, Zabini?"

"You're _happy_."

Draco shook his head. "What?"

"You, Draco, are the fucking happiest I've seen you in years. Who are you and what have you done with our ever brooding friend?"

"Sod off," he picked up a biscuit and threw it at him.

"He's right," Nott added. "Haven't seen you this happy since Pansy sucked your cock for the first time."

Pansy shoved him so hard he almost toppled off the bench.

"Did you get laid then?" Blaise asked.

"You found me out." Draco looked at the brunette amusedly. "Met up with your mom last night."

"Fucking prick."

"Come on mate. Is Granger putting out or are you two still holding hands like firsties?"

"None of your business."

"Bring her on Friday."

"Yes, invite the killjoy." Pansy said sarcastically. "We can drink every time she docks house points. It'll be loads of fun."

That's what they did on Friday's, since Blaise learned how to smuggle in firewhiskey; they snuck into Snape's old office in the dungeons and got drunk together.

"Not bloody likely," Draco replied derisively. The last thing he wanted was Granger around this crowd. Ten minutes with them and she would run directly for the exit, just as he sort of wanted to right then.


	3. Chapter 3

Passing notes during class was much less annoying, Hermione thought, when you were doing the passing. She tried to remain focused on Professor Binns' lecture, but Draco was in the seat to her right and Pansy in the seat behind him, and they clearly had a lot to say to one another.

It was bloody irritating.

He handed a folded piece of parchment over his shoulder _for the third time_ and it hung there for only a fraction of a second before Pansy snatched it from his fingertips, eager to hear his response.

Why didn't Professor Binns call them on it? Why couldn't he be the type of teacher who confiscated notes and read them aloud in front of the classroom? If she were ever a Hogwarts professor, she would do _precisely_ that.

Oh she itched to know what it said.

Hermione met Draco's eyes and raised a brow critically, but he was indifferent. She missed the way that Harry and Ron backed down when she gave them that glare.

She missed having friends like Harry and Ron to pass notes to.

Wondering where they were and how they were both doing, she promised herself that she would owl them that very evening. They needed to know that she wasn't really with Draco Malfoy, or at least that things weren't as they seemed. Lying to them was out of the question.

When Pansy handed her reply forward around Draco's side, he deliberately let her linger, pretending not to notice the letter as he hid a smirk. Finally, after a pointy fingernail jabbed into his rib cage, he retrieved the letter from her hand.

And then he opened it, almost laughed aloud, and picked up his quill to write what Hermione was certain was a witty response.

The entire class went on that way, and by the end of it Hermione was so frustratingly curious she almost snatched the letter from between them. Knowing that she couldn't actually do such a thing and also that Draco was unlikely to confide it's contents, she bit her tongue, slung her bag over her shoulder and moved quickly toward the exit.

"Granger, wait."

"What is it."

He caught up to her with a wicked smile. "Do you want to know what that was about?" Her expression said it all. _Of course she did_. He shifted his book bag and when he was sure no one else was in listening distance, "Seems you and I are about to be old news. Blaise and Parvati were caught snogging in an alcove before class."

Hermione shot him a double take. "What?"

"Shocking isn't it?"

They both glanced at Blaise across the hall.

"Unexpected," she replied, very aware that this sort of gossip was what had disrupted her life for the last few weeks.

"I told Pansy she ought to get with Longbottom and make it a trend," he snickered.

"Don't give her any ideas." She narrowed her eyes, feeling rather protective of her friend all of a sudden. "I paired the two of them for rounds tomorrow."

"She mentioned that. She thinks we're plotting the demise of the great house of Slytherin together."

Hermione scoffed, but before she could formulate a response, he did that thing with his hand again, that graze of fingers before their palms connected. This time was different than the others; instead of a benign clasp, he laced his fingers _between_ hers. She felt a warm tingle from head to toe.

What was she going to say again?

"I think it would be fun to stir up a little Slytherin and Gryffindor tension," he said. "Perhaps it's time _they_ were all on the receiving end of a nasty rumor."

"That would be a rotten thing to do," she scolded, using a voice typically reserved for Harry and Ron.

"Well no one ever accused me of being a nice person." He was unphased as always by her reprimand, a flash of mischief in his eye. "You write the prefects schedule. Pair them up. I'll take care of the rest."

"I'm not plotting with you, Malfoy. They'd all know it was me anyway."

They descended the stairs side by side, stuck behind a gaggle of slow moving students. Perhaps _that_ was why he had braided his fingers with hers. He _wanted_ something.

"Just say you're encouraging inter-house unity. Sounds like something you'd do."

She imagined for a moment a school where Gryffindors and Slytherins peacefully socialized. In all her years at Hogwarts she never would have thought such a thing was possible. Was it?

These idiotic rumors had created a tentative friendship between her and Malfoy, and she never would have thought _that_ was possible either.

"I'll think about it. For inter-house unity, _not_ to help you stir up chaos."

The way he smiled at her, one would have thought she had already said yes.

* * *

When she sat down to write schedules the following evening, cross-legged on her deep red bedspread and propped up by two fluffy pillows, Draco was all she could think about. They were becoming more comfortable with one another, to the point where they had held a few real and honest conversations, and he was not the man she had assumed all these years. Everyone had their hidden depths she supposed - it was part of the human condition.

If being his fake girlfriend was exciting and unpredictable, she imagined what being his _real_ girlfriend might be like; to be kissed hello and goodbye; to be surprised by his hand on her bare knee; a possessive arm around her shoulder; the weight of his body on top of hers.

She shook her head and snapped out of it.

Draco Malfoy was using her for his own objectives.

She glanced over at Parvati on the bed beside her, writing in her journal. They had both been quieter than usual that night, neither discussing the newest rumor to circulate around Hogwarts.

At least this time the rumor wasn't false, or perhaps, she mused, it being true made it all the more frustrating to be judged by it. Hermione had been able to legitimately blame the people around her for spreading lies and buying into a blatantly false rumor, and Parvati had no one to blame but herself.

Blaise was a skirt-chaser, as Pansy had put it, and a skilled seductor if all the other rumors about him were accurate. Should she be warning her friend, or simply trust Parvati to use her best judgment?

"Parvati," Hermione said softly. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Just..."she gulped, "fine."

Hermione scooted to the edge of the bed and faced her.

"If you want to talk, I'm here, you know. I've been through something similar and it's..._wretched_."

Parvati closed her journal with a loud sigh. "Oh... how did you make it through this! I can't stand the way everyone is looking at me, like I've personally offended them by associating with a Slytherin!" She wrung her hands and looked at Hermione with unshed tears in her eyes. "I can't help but feel as though...well, Blaise Zabini is not worth losing my friends over."

"If they were your real friends, Parvati," Hermione took a long breath, "you wouldn't have to worry about losing them at all. Things like this have a way of showing us who we can really count on."

Parvati nodded in understanding. "When Harry was in the Triwizard Tournament you stayed by his side as well." They exchanged a look, both remembering the event and the surrounding tension. So much had happened since then. "You're a good friend, Hermione."

Touched by the compliment, Hermione felt both compelled and apprehensive to say her next words. "As your good friend," she began, "I think it's only right to make sure you know what you're getting yourself into with Zabini."

Parvati opened her eyes wide, a hint of embarrassment in her expression. "I know what he's like," she replied quietly. "I'm not delusional enough to think I'll be different than the rest." She sat forward and continued, "Can I really trust you?"

Hermione's reply of 'yes' was met with an hour long outpouring of words and a level of graphic detail she had _not_ been prepared for. By the end of their conversation, Hermione understood exactly what had drawn Parvati to the man and also why she hadn't told anyone about their private relationship.

When Hermione finally returned to the prefect schedules, it was late and she was far too exhausted to make any big decisions, yet felt doubly invested in resolving the endless Gryffindor and Slytherin conflict. It had gone on long enough. It could be a good thing to put all the Prefects on the buddy system with a person from another house. After spending sufficient hours together, they'd have to learn how to get along eventually, wouldn't they?

Her quill hovered over the parchment. Twenty four names. Fourteen shifts. If she tweaked things a bit this week, she thought it was unlikely anyone would notice a pattern, and she could always change her mind at next weeks rounds if she decided this was a horrible idea.

* * *

Flying had always been Draco's favorite pastime. He had learned to fly a broom much younger than most, and his parents had to put shields around the property and cushioning charms over the grounds to keep him from hurting himself. He had been fearless once, and then as he aged, he saw the world for the wretched place it was and he'd become so fearful it was stifling.

He swooped down, falling close enough to the ground that he could reach out and touch it before he steered the broom upward toward the cloudy night sky.

He was still fearful at times, but it was _different_ post-war. Having lived through what he did and coming out the other side unscathed, he was finally beginning to reclaim that familiar fearlessness he'd once had as a child.

But just as he conquered his fear of disappointing his parents, another popped up to take its place.

_Feelings_.

Of the saccharine variety; the sort that kept one up at night, not fantasizing about sex, but of all the moments and conversations that might _lead_ to such a thing; the sort that left a man foolishly inclined to play handsies and footsies and stare longingly at a woman. He _hated_ feelings. Hated that he had them, hated that they were for Hermione Granger, and hated and that he couldn't blink his eyes and make them go away.

But... he refused to fear them.

Circling once more around the pitch, he wondered if she felt it. After all he had done over the years, it was difficult to believe that she could, but when he'd weaved their fingers together that afternoon he had seen a look, felt a tremble. She'd been speechless for a _solid ten seconds_. He knew because he counted them, waiting for her to pull her hand away in favor of a less amorous arrangement of digits. She hadn't.

Whether or not she felt the same, _she wasn't unaffected._

* * *

"Impressive work," Draco said as he threw down his book bag and sat down next to Hermione on the grass.

"I don't know what you're referring to, Malfoy," she said with barely an upward glance from her book.

He smiled and leaned in, a bit closer than he normally would. "Don't you?"

She shifted, eyes drifting from her book, to the ground, to the pale hand that had planted itself beside her leg, and finally to his eyes. "Whatever you're planning, knock it off."

"Too late." He leaned backward on the grass, using his book bag as a headrest, and folded his hands behind his neck with a smug look.

Slamming her book shut, she looked down at him, doing her very best to stay focused on his face and not his long torso. It was odd seeing him horizontal.

"What did you do."

"Well rumor has it," he smiled, showing off his perfect teeth for just a split second, "Dean Thomas and Astoria Greengrass were seen exiting the room of requirement together last night."

Irritation bubbled up within her and she did the first thing she could think of. She picked up her textbook and slammed it down on his abdomen.

He curled upward with an '_oof_.' "It's official," he said with a scowl, "I'm in an abusive relationship."

"Honestly Malfoy. You cannot just go around spreading lies about people. Don't you remember how it felt?"

"Yes and that's exactly why I did it," he said with a straight face. He leaned forward a few inches propping himself on his elbows. It occurred to her then that her knee was resting against his hip, and she felt that familiar unwelcome pull, like she was gravitating toward him against her own will. "She made our lives hell."

"And Dean?"

"He was a prick to you. I heard him."

Yes, he had been, but not much more than the other students.

"You didn't choose him because of his blood status then?" She asked suspiciously. He flinched a little and laid back down on his book bag. Dean has been on the muggleborn registration list last year, and she couldn't help but think that was the true reason for Malfoy's selection.

After a moment of silence, he replied, "It wasn't on my mind, but if that pisses off her parents, so be it."

"You informed her parents?" She asked sharply.

"Pansy sent an owl, from a _concerned friend_."

_Pansy_. The two of them were awfully close for being exes, passing notes and plotting together. She didn't dare ask about their relationship or why it ended for fear of sounding like a jealous girlfriend.

She _wasn't_ his girlfriend.

"I'm surprised she helped you. Isn't she friends with Daphne?"

He laughed. "Not anymore. I forget you aren't privy to the _Slytherin house drama_. Let's just say, Pansy doesn't have any female friends left."

Hermione bit her lip, recalling her very few interactions with the Slytherin girl. This year she was mostly seen with Draco, Theo and Blaise.

"Actually, I think you two would get along well enough if you could put your differences aside." He sat up, wearing a contemplative expression for a few seconds. "Do you drink?"

"What?"

"Do. You. Drink."

She narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

"Answer the question and I'll tell you."

"Sometimes." She said with a gulp. "I don't like being drunk."

He grinned. "Not surprised. You're a bit of a control freak." His eyes were a stunning shade of light gray in the sunlight, with his pupils contracted. He seemed hesitant to say his next words. "Come over and drink with us on Friday night."

Her lips parted, uncertain what to say. She had many reservations, but as always with Hermione, her curiosity was far stronger than her fear. "Would your friends be alright with that?"

"Sure. They told me to invite you." He smiled and looked out toward the lake. "Well, Pansy expressed concerns about you being the head girl and all."

She took a deep breath before continuing, "I'd be breaking several rules, but it wouldn't be the first time."

"I'm surprised they made you head girl at all, with your penchant for trouble," he replied with a smirk. "Suppose they thought you'd be a _good girl_ without Potter and Weasley around."

"Clearly they were wrong."

"Clearly."

If there were anything she had learned since her first year, it was that some rules were important to follow and others, less so. Drinking, for example, could be done responsibly, and though it was against Hogwarts rules, it was far more difficult to stir up trouble in the confines of the castle than it was, say, at a pub where they'd all be drinking _irresponsibly_ a year from now.

Still, she had concerns that needed to be voiced.

"Do your friends think we're together?"

As she said it, her heart skipped a beat in her chest. They didn't really speak of this thing they were doing and it felt uncomfortable to bring it up.

"I haven't confirmed or denied anything. All they know is what they've seen."

They sat awkwardly side by side, looking out toward the lake.

"Alright," she said. "Friday. But no more rumors, Malfoy. You had your fun."

She caught his smile from the corner of her eye. "But you set it all up _so perfectly-_"

"For house unity, Malfoy. The conflict between Slytherins and Gryffindors needs to be addressed."

"Fine. I'll leave it... for now." He stood up and brushed himself off, then picked up his book bag and slung it over his shoulder. "You can bring Parvati on Friday if it makes you feel better."

Parvati. Yes she supposed it would make her feel better if she weren't the lone Gryffindor in a dorm of Slytherins.

She looked up and nodded. "Thanks."

—


End file.
